


To Here (Where It Finally Stops)

by Frappexo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Any medical procedure mentioned here is highly likely to be inaccurate, Cancer is mentioned twice, Could that be a happy ending?, M/M, MAMA Era Powers (EXO), Please don't take that part too seriously I'm not a doctor myself, Sad with a Happy Ending, Smoking, There's a pretty explicit description of injuries wounds and blood, This is more tragic than I had intended it to be, honestly idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27653507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frappexo/pseuds/Frappexo
Summary: Yixing had promised to himself that he wouldn’t do this. Not again. But when Jongin and Jongdae stumble into his apartment with a very injured Sehun, he doesn't find it in himself to say no.
Relationships: Oh Sehun/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 20
Kudos: 33





	To Here (Where It Finally Stops)

**Author's Note:**

> **Written for EXO Genesis Fest**
> 
> **Prompt XG.459**
> 
> In this fest, the prompts were basically titles. You chose one and from there you started. Unfortunately, the fest was cancelled, but I'd already finished this, so here it is, anyway. It was supposed to be angsty according to the prompter's request. I guess I kinda succedeed with that part, though I wouldn't say it's angsty angsty. There are heavy descriptions of blood and injuries, as the tags say, so please take that into consideration before proceeding. Other than that, I'd say we're good. Enjoy! ♥

The room was dark. Yixing sat on his bed, facing the window, with his arms resting on his knees. Out there, the wind wasn't blowing, as if the Earth was holding its breath. He gave his cigarette one last drag, stepped on the butt, and reached his pack to get another one. His hands were shaking. So much that the stick fell to the floor as soon as he took it out.

“Fuck,” he muttered, bending down to retrieve his fallen dose of nicotine.

As he tried to light it, he felt a stupid smirk creeping up his lips. If Sehun were here, he would’ve already thrown the pack of cigarettes away. He hated it whenever Yixing smoked. He was against it. _“Your lips taste like shit and you smell even worse,”_ he always used to say. But Sehun wasn’t here, so Yixing didn't care.

He wondered how many of those he would need to calm his nerves. More than three, it seemed. His fourth was on its way, but they weren't working fast. He was willing to have as many cigarette butts on his floor as he could. If it meant his hands would stop shaking, then so be it.

Lucky him that he couldn’t get lung cancer.

Or any kind of cancer.

Or any kind of disease, for that matter.

Healing power and all that shit.

Pretty useful when it came to helping people. Fucking useless when said people were _not_ with him—or dead.

How come his night had ended like this? He had gone to bed early because what was better than doing that on a Saturday night? Then, last thing he knew, he was waking up feeling a tug in his chest. So hard and painful he couldn't breathe. It was suffocating him and for a moment he thought that it would be it for him. That it was how he would die. But he didn't die and his phone rang. The annoying song Sehun had put as his ringtone for whenever he called him echoed in his room.

 _“So you know right away it's me who's calling,”_ Sehun had said back then, smiling proud.

When was the last time he had seen Sehun smile?

When was the last time he had seen _Sehun?_

He took a long drag, enjoying how the smoke burned his chest, and pushed that thought away. Thinking about Sehun only worsened his nerves.

Anyway, for a moment he considered not answering the phone. But he was a completely ridiculous idiot, so for the sake of hearing Sehun's voice again, he swiped the green button on his screen. He immediately regretted it. What he heard wasn't Sehun's but Jongdae's voice, desperate, asking him to tell him what to do because _Sehun was dying._

Yixing felt his blood running cold and his soul leaving his body. It was like bringing his worst nightmares to life.

He didn't have many details other than Sehun had a metal claw in his chest. That the wound was bleeding and disgusting. That it was making a wheezing sound every time he tried to breathe. That Jongin was _not_ going back—whatever that even meant—so Sehun and Jongdae were stuck wherever the hell they were. That Sehun was dying and Yixing wasn’t there to hold him and try to keep him alive.

He didn't know what Jongdae was exactly expecting him to do. He had, by no means, any medical knowledge or experience. He acted by mere instinct. Everything he did was most likely performed in the wrong way, professionally speaking. Healing had always been as easy as breathing for him, sometimes even easier. He only needed to touch the person once to know how severe the damage was and where he had to direct his power to heal them. Whether he did it the right way or not, he would never know, but _it worked,_ so he didn’t care. He had read medical books and articles, though. Had tried to fill his brain with as much accurate knowledge as he could. It would never compare to what being a real doctor was, but it was better than nothing, he guessed. Thus he opted to recite what he had read a while ago— _'Essential first aid for stabbing victims',_ it said. He could only do as much.

He ordered Jongdae to check whether Sehun was conscious—he was.

Or short of breath—he wasn’t.

If he had an unequal chest—he didn’t.

Or if the veins of his neck were bulging—they weren’t.

He asked him not to remove the claw. To press the wound around it to slow the bleeding. Not to look away from Sehun unless it was absolutely necessary in case he lost consciousness. If that happened, then he would have to try and keep him warm.

Jongdae was in the middle of asking what he could do not to let Sehun get so cold when the line died. Yixing called back several times; to Sehun's phone and to Jongdae's. He didn’t succeed. The answer never entered again. So now here he was, expelling smoke like a fucking pipe, trying with all his might not to jump out the window.

He shouldn't have answered the phone.

He should've hung up when he heard what was happening.

He should’ve let Sehun die.

He had always known that this would all end like this. With all of them dead. Might as well had let it happen sooner than later. But he had answered, he hadn't hung up, and he had not, for the love of everything, let Sehun die—he would never let Sehun die. He would let himself die first rather than letting Sehun die.

And maybe that was his problem.

That he was so fucking in love with Sehun, that no matter how many stupid things he did, Yixing would always accept to help and fix his mess. Even if it meant destroying his very soul a little bit more every time.

It had happened several times before. More than he could recall. With Sehun acting like an idiot, playing heroes to defeat the Red Force. Coming back home in the middle of the night full of wounds. Sometimes, even, so injured that he fell unconscious as soon as he stepped foot on their apartment. Yixing had stopped counting a long time ago how many times he had saved his life. And it had become so regular, so usual, that he had already accepted it as how they would live until the end of times. But one night he couldn't handle it anymore. He couldn't stand looking at Sehun not caring about his own life. The pressure of losing him was bigger than his willingness to let him do as he pleased. So he had no other choice but to resort to his last option. The one he had pushed to the bottom of his list and had ignored for years. He made Sehun choose—either he ended with all that bullshit against the Red Force or he walked out the door and never came back.

Sehun always argued that they had a big purpose in life. They didn't have powers just because. They had to destroy the Red Force to keep everyone safe and alive. They had to act before even thinking about living a peaceful life. So he chose to walk out the door and Yixing didn’t argue. He accepted and let him go.

 _“Just don’t come back asking me to heal your wounds, because I won’t do it,”_ Yixing had said.

And Sehun had accepted that, too.

Chanyeol came a couple of days after that to retrieve all his stuff, and just like that, it was all over. They never crossed paths again.

For a few months he isolated himself. He only let Junmyeon, sometimes Jongdae, come and check on him—not that he needed it. He was fine, if only a bit heartbroken. _But he was fine._ He had only let them because he knew they were worried, but didn’t know how to help him. So he allowed them to check on him so they could feel better with themselves. The only condition was of never speaking about Sehun if they were with him and they had been more than kind to stick to it.

Meaning he hadn’t known what Sehun had been up to.

Until now.

It had been stupid of him to think he could keep himself away forever. They were tied for life, the twelve of them. That was what the old writings about their powers' origins said, at least. And if he added that his heart belonged to Sehun and no one else, well… It was needless to say he was doomed.

Sehun would be the death of him. There was no healing power strong enough to save him if Sehun died. He wouldn’t survive, he just knew it. So no matter how much he stayed away, whenever it came to saving Sehun's life, he would always be the first in line.

Sometimes he wondered whether he did it thinking about Sehun's well-being or his very own. He wanted to believe that he did it for Sehun. Deep down, though, he knew his intentions weren't as selfless. That it was an act of self-preservation, as well. He didn't want to live a life where Sehun didn't exist. They weren't together anymore, but knowing that the man was breathing and alive was enough for him to keep moving forward for as long as he could.

With a loud, heavy sigh, he let the remaining smoke of his last drag leave his lips. He let the butt fall to the floor once again and stepped on it. There it went his fourth one. He was about to take out the fifth when a loud thud in the living room stopped him.

Dropping the pack of cigarettes on the floor, he rushed out his bedroom. He stopped on his tracks once he was in the living room. It was dark, but he didn’t need light to see what was going on. In the middle of the scene, he found Jongin panting and crawling to lean on the couch. Jongdae kneeling on the floor, hovering over a body—Sehun’s body.

Without giving it a second thought, he ran and dropped on his knees in front of Jongdae. His nostrils immediately registered a mix of blood, sweat, and dirt in the air. Sehun was unconscious, but was still breathing, which was a relief. His chest was making that wheezing sound Jongdae had talked about before. It wasn’t strong, but it was there. And while it wasn’t good, it wasn’t bad, either. It meant he was alive.

“How long ago did he pass out?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Jongdae said. “I was trying to call you back and when I looked at him again, he was already like this.”

Well, that wasn't useful.

“Turn the lights on, please,” Yixing said. A second later, the room lit up. Jongin was standing now at the door, with his hand on the light switch. “Thanks.”

He fixed his eyes on Sehun’s limp body. Now that he could see him, his fingers prickled, anxious to caress his face and clean the sweat and blood away. Looking at Sehun like this still made him sick, but he forced his stomach to go back to where it belonged.

Right in the sternum, Sehun had the infamous claw buried deep inside. It had the size of Yixing’s fist, though it had been enough to cause a lot of damage as far as he could see. The fabric of Sehun’s shirt was soaked with blood and crumpled around it; part of it had to be stuck to the wound. But it was thin, so it didn’t take Yixing a lot of effort to tear it, revealing Sehun’s torso. He was full of smaller wounds and many purple, almost black bruises. Whatever they had fought had given them a tough time.

He placed a pair of shaky fingers on Sehun’s neck, looking for his pulse. His skin was colder than it should be and his pulse was weak, almost nonexistent. Were it not for his chest moving, he would’ve thought Sehun was dead.

Without wasting more time, with his free hand he took one of Sehun’s. He breathed deep and then pushed. A soft tingle went across his chest to his palms and then Sehun’s veins began to turn green. He kept pushing until Sehun’s pulse beat a little bit faster. Every single visible vein was green now and that was his cue to let Sehun’s hand go.

“I’m gonna need your help,” he said, looking up at Jongdae.

The man blinked at him, then down at Sehun, then back at him. “Do I have to wash my hands?”

Yixing glanced down. Jongdae’s hands were covered with blood and dirt. He _obviously_ had to wash them, but it would be a waste of time. He had only given Sehun’s heart enough energy to keep beating with the poor amount of blood that was still in his body. It wouldn’t last long, so they had to move fast.

“We don’t have time for that,” he said. “I’ll get rid of the infection later.”

Jongdae looked nervous, but he nodded, anyway.

“I’m gonna remove the claw,” Yixing said. “I want you to press the wound so he doesn’t bleed out. Just put your hands around it.” He waited for Jongdae to do so. “Now press it hard.”

“Is this alright? Won’t we hurt him?” Jongdae asked.

Yixing sighed, trying hard to keep his cool. Jongdae’s uncertainty wasn’t helping at all, but he couldn’t blame him. His doubts were valid. Way too valid. He himself was doubting it would work, but he could only _hope_ it would. There was nothing more to do than that.

“We won’t.”

“And if you do, Yixing will fix it. Now press,” Jongin said from behind. He was still standing at the door. His arms were crossed at his chest and his eyes fixed somewhere far from where Sehun was lying.

This seemed to be it for Jongdae. He pressed his hands hard down the wound.

The smell of blood in the air intensified, but Yixing paid it no mind.

Once he was sure Jongdae was doing it right, he placed his own hands over Sehun’s chest. His fingers were still shaking and _god,_ he wanted another damn cigarette. He clenched his fingers a couple of times and then gripped the claw. He tried to move it to see how deep it was, but it didn't budge. It was way too deep; more than he had thought. It would take a lot of effort to detach it and it would worsen the damage. He wouldn't have time to regenerate Sehun's blood if he bleed out. Sehun would die before Yixing even got the chance to do something.

Ignoring the cloud in his mind, he held the claw again with a firm grip. He moved it from side to side, ignoring the red that gushed from Sehun's chest. In the distance he heard Jongin cursing and from the corner of his eye he saw Jongdae looking away. From time to time he held Sehun's hand and pushed a pump of power in him again; enough to keep his heart working.

He didn't know for how long he was at it, trying to get rid of the claw. His neck hurt and his legs went numb. His nostrils were now used to the smell of iron and he could only see red wherever his eyes landed on. Eventually, the damn claw took mercy on him and he managed to take it out. The green on Sehun’s veins was almost gone and the wound started, as expected, bleeding out faster.

“Hands off,” he said, throwing away the claw. He didn’t care about where it landed or whether it got his floor or furniture dirty.

Jongdae raised his hands and Yixing's replaced them. He pushed again, feeling his power running throughout his body. It flowed out of his hands and into Sehun’s chest. It went over Sehun’s body to then go into Yixing’s hands once again. It was like a circuit. Yixing could feel the way his power traveled from one body to the other. Feel it working as a scanner to find any sign of possible internal damage that he couldn’t see with the naked eye. Feel it taking care of every wound, big or small, as though they were his very own wounds.

It was always the same with whoever he healed, yet it never failed to overwhelm him how much power he held over one person’s life. Even more when it came to having the life of someone he cared for in his hands. It was more pressure than anyone should ever deal with. It wasn’t nice. He hated it. But he couldn’t do anything about it, so he had to man up and take it as it came.

Sehun’s veins were glowing green again. The bruises on his torso were almost gone and the small wounds were almost closed. His skin had gained its color back, his temperature was normal now, as well as his pulse. The wound over his chest was taking more time, though. Yixing wasn’t surprised. The internal damage had been worse than what it had looked on the outside. It was obvious it would take him longer to get it healed.

As time went by, the exhaustion was taking control over him. His eyes closed by themselves and his breathing became heavier. This always happened, too. As much healing power as he might have, it didn’t mean it was unlimited. It naturally became scarce and it left him feeling like someone had sucked the energy out of him. So once he was done, he had to take a rest to fill his body back and regain his full power strength. But as tiring as it was, he had never left people’s side until they were a hundred percent recovered. He had never done it, and he for sure wasn’t going to start doing it now. Even less when it was Sehun who was at risk.

So he pushed, and pushed, and pushed into Sehun. Then pushed, and pushed, and pushed again. He repeated it once, twice, three, four times. He pushed until everything he could see under his hands was green light coming out of Sehun’s chest. Until there was no sign of blood or any open area. Until Sehun's skin went back to being soft and smooth. Until Sehun wasn’t short on breath and the only thing he could feel was the pump of health flowing through his veins.

His power did one last check up only to confirm that Sehun was okay. Then Yixing let out a long, relieved sigh and his eyes fell close. He stayed there for a moment, trying to recover. He hung his head down and absentmindedly caressed Sehun's chest with a shaky thumb.

“Is it done?” Jongdae asked, his voice low.

Yixing snapped his eyes open and looked up.

Jongdae and Jongin were staring at him, both with a worried expression over their faces.

He had forgotten they were there.

“Is it infected?” Jongin added.

Yixing’s eyes jumped back at Sehun. He looked like he had fallen asleep shirtless on the floor.

“He’ll be fine,” he said, glancing back at them. “Just make sure to leave him on his bed when you take him home.”

At this, Jongin’s eyes went wide. He gaped like a fish, as if trying to find the words to say whatever he wanted to say.

Yixing frowned. “What is it?”

Jongin looked uncertain, but still asked, “Do you think he can… stay?”

Yixing stared at him, dumbfounded. Stay _where?_ Here? With him?

“It’s just— I… I don’t think I can manage taking them both home,” Jongin said, gesturing from Jongdae to Sehun.

He was leaning on the wall, as if looking for support. Slumped shoulders, hooded eyes. He was covered with sweat and dirt, some blood, too, but he didn’t seem injured or in pain. Yixing guessed those stains were Sehun’s blood doing. It was evident that Jongin didn’t have neither strength nor power to take another trip. God only knew how many of those he had done, how far he had gone, and how much power he had used.

The idea of healing him crossed Yixing’s mind, but he discarded it as soon as it appeared. He didn’t have enough power in him to refuel Jongin’s.

“He can stay, it’s alright,” he ended up saying.

It was certainly _not_ alright. He didn’t want Sehun to stay. At all. But he wouldn’t force Jongin to push his limits like that. It was safer for everyone if they left Sehun there and the other two went back home on their own.

“Are you placing him here?” Jongdae asked, pointing at the couch.

Yixing shook his head. “He needs to rest. The couch won’t help him.” He ran a hand over his face and added, “I’ll take the couch. He can have the bed.”

Jongdae hesitated for a moment before he nodded. “Let me help you, then.”

He moved to take Sehun in his arms. He struggled a little bit. He himself seemed as tired as Jongin, but still managed to carry him and take him away. The image would’ve been funny before, but now it was ridiculous. What the fuck were they all doing? Nothing did sense anymore in their lives.

Yixing stared at them disappearing down the hallway, then stood up. His legs wobbled, like a deer giving its first steps. He surrounded the couch and leaned on the back of it to give himself some support. He stared down at his hands. They were still shaking, though now it was only because of tiredness rather than out of worry. He still had the urge to smoke, though. That one was always there.

When Jongdae stepped foot on the living room again, he stood next to Jongin at the wall. “You'll have to wash your covers after this.”

“Does Junmyeon know you're here?” Yixing asked, ignoring his comment. He couldn't care less about his stupid covers.

Jongdae blinked, taken aback. “What? No, he… Please don't tell him.”

Yixing rolled his eyes. Of course he wouldn't tell him. It wasn't his business. If Jongdae wanted to play fool and lie to Junmyeon, it was Jongdae's problem to solve. Yixing wouldn't be the one to intrude.

“What the hell happened?” he asked instead. He crossed his arms, staring at the pair in front of him.

Being honest, he didn't want to know. He had a grasp of what had happened and he didn't want to get disappointed yet again. But he still had to ask. Because they looked like shit, and Sehun… Sehun had been lucky that Jongin had gone back on time to get them out of there.

“Chanyeol found where the Red Force was hiding,” Jongin said.

 _Of course_ _Chanyeol had._

Yixing tried hard not to burst into a fit. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. Took a deep breath and let it go. He was too tired to even get mad anymore.

“So you decided it was okay to go after it,” he said as a matter of fact.

Jongin stared at the floor. He looked like a scolded child and Yixing almost felt sorry for him.

“It was Chanyeol’s idea,” Jongdae quipped as if that would help the case. It didn't.

“And yet I don't see Chanyeol here.” Yixing waved his hand around.

Jongdae looked away.

“I took him home,” Jongin said. “He passed out in the middle of it all and I—”

“Didn’t you think it was a better idea to take them _all_ home?” Yixing asked, the anger now clear in his voice.

“They were doing fine!” Jongin exclaimed and Yixing shushed him. He lowered his voice as he added, “How was I supposed to know they would be hurt?”

“You don’t need to be a smartass to know how it would end.”

Jongin narrowed his eyes. “You weren't there. You don’t understand—”

“No, _you_ don’t understand!” Yixing finally snapped, making the other two jump. “What were you thinking? Were you _even_ thinking? Haven’t you had enough? Baekhyun is gone! Minseok is gone! Luhan is gone! Zitao is fucking gone! Does somebody else need to die for you to understand that we're not gods?! What else has to happen for you to get it through your skull?!”

“Why are you lashing on me?!” Jongin exploded, too. “It wasn’t even my idea!”

“Who cares about that?! You were still there! If Chanyeol's choosing to be an idiot, it's on you to decide if you want to be an idiot with him or not. You made your choice and now see how that went.”

“Why are you only insulting me? Sehun and Jongdae were there, too!”

“And they're both a pair of idiots, as well.”

Jongin huffed and crossed his arms. “I don’t get why you’re so mad. It’s not like it affects you.”

 _“Jongin,”_ Jongdae warned him, but the other didn’t listen.

“You shouldn’t care what we do or don’t do. Specially Sehun. You’re not even with him anymore.”

Yixing stared at him, not believing the logic Jongin was following. “You do realize that just because we’re not together doesn’t mean I don’t love him and I don’t care about him anymore, right?”

“We don’t have to talk about this, Xing,” Jongdae said, but Yixing shook his head.

“No, no. Just… Let me ask you something, Jongin,” Yixing said, his eyes not leaving Jongin’s. “Do you know what it is to look at the person you love stumbling to your home, full of wounds and covered in blood? What it is to feel his heartbeat slowing down and life escaping from his body, knowing that if you fail you won’t be able to bring him back from death? What it is to put all what you’ve got, then, hoping that your power will work faster than what death does? Do you? Because if you don’t, God forbid you ever get to know.

“It’s the most fucking horrifying thing anyone can ever experience. It leaves you feeling useless, and helpless, and empty. And that’s what Sehun made me feel every single time you went on one of your heroic feats. So if you think I stopped caring just because I decided to step away, I’ve got some news for you. You’re very, very wrong.”

Jongin stared at him, obviously not expecting that answer.

Yixing shook his head again and looked away. He felt the back of his eyes prickling and he was furious with himself. He had kept the frustration at bay for so, so long, and now he was finally losing it. He was about to cry and he didn’t consider himself anything but a joke.

“Hey,” Jongdae said. He was standing next to him now and the concern was evident in his voice. “We’re sorry.”

“It doesn’t fix anything,” Yixing muttered.

“Doesn’t mean we’re not sorry.”

Yixing huffed. “Are you, really?”

“Now that we know how you’re feeling, we are,” Jongdae said. He looked back at Jongin. “Aren’t we?”

Jongin stared at them for a moment, then nodded.

Yixing didn’t believe him. He couldn’t change his way of thinking that fast, but it was alright. He would probably be the same if the roles were inverted.

“You need to stop this,” he said, choosing to go back to the main point. “Although if what you want is to die, then go ahead and keep your chaise. But don’t you dare involve me again, because I’m done with all this shit.”

The silence after that was heavy. Yixing wasn't sure whether they were silent because they were thinking about what to reply, or because they didn't _want_ to reply. But he didn't care. He wasn't expecting an answer. They were adults. It was their business what they did or not as long as they kept him out.

“Anyway,” he said, stepping away from the couch. “Not that I want to kick you out, but you should get going. It’s late and you need to shower and rest. Or if you wanna stay, too, I don't mind.”

“No, we're not staying,” Jongdae said. “You'll give us your couch and you'll sleep on the kitchen or bathroom floor, so no. You also need to rest.”

Yixing nodded and walked them to the door.

“Text me when you get home. The both of you,” he said, even if he knew Jongin wouldn’t do it.

He opened the door and stepped aside to let them out. Jongdae patted him on the arm. Jongin gave him a brief, awkward glance. As they walked down the hall, it hit him that he hadn’t checked them. They were conscious, but that didn’t mean they weren’t injured. He couldn't heal them if their injuries were severe, but he still could check them. Just to see if they could get home _or_ had to go to the hospital.

He first swept his eyes over Jongin and got a glimpse of damp hair stuck to his nape. It could've been sweat, but the skin at his neck was crimson.

“Wait. Jongin,” he said, walking a few steps out of the apartment. Jongin turned around, a confused frown on his face. “Come here.”

Jongin looked wary, but still complied, walking back to stand in front of him.

“Turn around,” Yixing ordered. When he was facing Jongin's nape, he touched the damped area. Jongin hissed and Yixing removed his fingers. They came out red. “Sorry.”

Even with the blood still there, there was no big damage. He could afford healing that one. He placed his fingers back in Jongin's nape and recollected the little power he still had within him. He pushed into the wound, a faint trace of green lighting up for a moment. Yixing stared at the skin closing up until it was back as though nothing had happened.

“Ready,” he said, stepping away.

“Thanks,” Jongin mumbled, putting a hand to where the wound had been. “I hadn’t realized it was there. It didn’t hurt.”

Jongdae was staring at them from afar. He was leaning on the wall, waiting.

Yixing couldn't notice any damage on him, so he extended his arm. “Hand.”

“I'm fine,” Jongdae said, but still straightened and closed the distance to hold Yixing's hand.

Yixing pushed once again, just a little bit. His power flowed throughout Jongdae, but didn’t detect anything wrong; only exhaustion and stress. A headache, too. Letting go of Jongdae's hand, he placed his fingers on Jongdae’s temples. His forehead then lit up green. Almost immediately, Jongdae's face changed and a relieved sigh escaped through his lips.

“May your soul be blessed,” Jongdae said, making Yixing roll his eyes.

“I don't need a blessed soul. I need you to go home.”

“We're going now.” Stepping away from him, Jongdae gave him a small smile. “Thanks again, Xing.”

The pair disappeared down the hallway, heading to the elevator and leaving him alone. They didn’t have the energy to go into any other kind of stupid adventure, so he knew they would head home. He hoped they would, at least.

He walked into his apartment again, a heavy sigh coming out as soon as he closed the door. He stared around the living room with a mixture of annoyance and overwhelm. His focus had been on Sehun the whole time, so he hadn’t noticed that it looked like a crime scene. It was horrible and he had to clean, but he didn’t have the energy to do that. He was completely done for the day. He turned off the light, instead. Now that he couldn't see, he could pretend it was clean and nothing had happened there. He had more important stuff lying on his bed to worry about.

In the bedroom, the lights were still off and the door was left ajar. He pushed it open and stood there, taking it all in. It didn’t look that different from how his mind remembered it—the pile of clothes on the chair at the corner. The shutters open, the street light coming in through the window. The cigarette butts scattered around. Sehun lying on his back, on his side of the bed, sleeping. The steady rise and fall of his chest, to Yixing as familiar as his very own.

He thought he would never get to witness such an image again. Hell, he had thought he would never get to see Sehun ever again. The scene in front of him was way more than he had expected. It seemed like an hallucination. He was probably hallucinating. His mind had to be coming up with stuff to cope with his shit.

A lump clogged his throat and he looked away. His room didn't look like _this_ anymore. He was only deluding himself.

He moved his eyes back to the butts on the floor. The familiar urge to pick them up before Sehun woke appeared out of nowhere. This wasn’t Sehun’s home anymore, but for some reason Yixing still didn’t want him to see them. So slowly so he wouldn’t make much noise, he padded around, collecting them in his hand. One after the other until the floor was clean.

“You don't have to put them away, you know?”

Yixing tensed, halfway through straightening up. His breath caught in his throat. He looked back to the bed. A pair of tired eyes was staring right at him. He almost choked.

Sehun was lying on his side, one of his hands under his cheek—when had he turned around? Yixing hadn’t heard him.

“I've already seen them, so…” Sehun said, his shoulder shrugging once.

Yixing only managed to stare back at him. His brain wasn’t connecting with his tongue. He couldn't make words come out of his mouth.

“You’re smoking again.”

Sehun wasn’t asking. It was a statement. His voice didn’t sound disappointed, scolding, or judging, yet Yixing couldn’t help feeling guilty. He looked away and moved to throw the butts in the bin next to the door.

“I’m not,” he said. He didn't know why he was denying the obvious. To preserve his dignity, probably. Although it didn't matter. He didn't owe Sehun anything.

“The room smells like tobacco, though,” Sehun said. “And I guess you do, too.”

He guessed… Well. Yixing _was sure_ he smelled like that, but he wasn’t going to address it. He walked back to the bed and sat at the edge.

“Yeah, you do, too,” Sehun said, confirming his suspicions.

“How are you feeling?” Yixing asked, instead, taking hold of Sehun’s wrist. He didn’t feel any sort of pain coming off of him, but he still let the remnants of his power flow into Sehun one last time. He was aware that it would take him an eternity to recover his full power strength now.

“I'm okay,” Sehun said. “But the smoking—when did you retake it?”

Yixing fixed his eyes on Sehun's wrist. He tried to ignore how penetrating Sehun's stare felt over him. “The night you left.”

“Were you refraining yourself just for me?”

Yeah, he had. He had stopped smoking just for Sehun’s sake. But now that they weren’t together, he didn’t care about containing himself anymore. Though deep down he knew that he would drop his smoking habit again if Sehun asked him to do it.

“Don't take that much credit,” he said, but only so he wouldn’t seem that pathetic.

Sehun snorted, but didn't push the matter.

When Yixing was done, he let go of his wrist and awkwardly changed his sitting position so he wasn't facing Sehun.

“Do you want to change?” he asked, placing his hand flat on the mattress. “I must have something that fits you. I can look for it if you want.”

“Do you want me to change?”

“Your choice.”

“I want to stay like this.”

“You do you, then.”

Sehun offered him a tiny smile as a response. Yixing looked away. It was too much for one night. He attempted to stand up, but Sehun immediately held his hand.

“Wait.”

Yixing frowned down at him. He pretended he didn't notice how his heart beat faster or how Sehun’s fingers felt against his own.

Sehun’s grip tightened a little bit, as if afraid Yixing would escape—he would not. “Isn't it convenient if you sleep with me? In the bed, next to me, I mean. What if my chest hurts? Or if something else hurts? Or if the wound reappears? If you stay, you can help me right away.”

Sehun’s words came out fast, tumbling one after the other. His blabbering was almost impossible to understand. Had it happened before, Yixing would’ve found it amusing and endearing. This time, though, he couldn’t help feeling like his world was crumbling once again. This felt way too familiar, more than it should after everything that had happened. It hurt.

He hated it. The feeling, his reactions to it. He hated Sehun, too—oh, how he wished it was like that. But it was impossible. He loved this guy with every fiber of his being and that would never change. Not because it was impossible, but because he didn’t want it to change.

“I can sleep on the chair if you want,” Sehun tried again after not getting an answer.

What Sehun was saying was utter bullshit. It was the lamest excuse he could’ve ever made. Never had a wound Yixing had healed reopened before, so there was no way for it to happen now. There was no reason for them to stay in the same room, even less to sleep on the same bed. Yet Yixing couldn’t make himself send Sehun to the chair, nor get up and leave. He was tired, and weak, and somewhere inside his head, a voice was screaming at him to give in only this one time—so he did.

He wiggled his hand so Sehun would let go and gestured at him to scoot over. “You won't sleep on the chair. Don't be ridiculous.”

Sehun didn't miss a beat. He made room for him to get in next to him.

As Yixing was settling, he realized he should've taken a shower, or at least changed. He felt disgusting, and his clothes were dirty and stained red. Jongdae had been wrong. He wouldn't have to wash the covers. He would have to throw them away.

He lay down facing the window, his back to Sehun. He _was_ tired, _and_ weak, _and_ had given in only this one time, but it didn't mean he wasn't uncomfortable. He hadn’t thought this through. He hadn’t considered that this would be weird. They weren’t together anymore, nor were they friends either. Sleeping on the same bed again after so long _had_ to be weird.

At least for him, it was.

Sleeping next to Sehun was so foreign to him now—no. Scratch that. Having Sehun there with him was what was so foreign to him now. He had forgotten what it was to feel Sehun breathing behind him or to have the warmth of his body engulfing him. What it was to feel the life coming out of him in waves, crashing into him, reminding him how alive Sehun was and how easy it was for him to lose that. He had been over that edge between life and death once again tonight and he almost didn’t make it.

Yixing almost didn't make it.

A shaky breath escaped through his lips at that thought. He pressed them together, hoping he could control his emotions. He didn't want to show how much it still affected him—though it was in vain. Sehun knew him like the palm of his hand. There was no way for Yixing to hide from him how awful he was feeling.

Proof of it was the hand landing softly on his arm, followed by, “Xing?”

 _“Don’t.”_ Yixing shrugged, shoving Sehun's hand away. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. He had to calm down before he broke down. But his chest hurt and his throat burned. His eyes prickled and he couldn't breathe. It was too much. Way too much. He tried to make himself as small as he could, curling into a ball and squeezing his eyes shut. He felt the trace of a tear running down the bridge of his nose, slowly heading to land into his other eye. He furiously wiped it away.

A sob left his lips and he covered them with a hand. His throat closed, as if someone would've shoved a ball down to his windpipe. He was at that point of no return. The despair was suffocating him. His intakes of air were heavy, and messy, and for fuck's sake, _he was fucking crying!_

How ridiculous could he be?

Crying over a guy who preferred to leave him than leaving his stupid hero adventures behind.

Sehun placed a hand to his arm again, careful. This time Yixing let him. Sehun took this as a good sign and moved closer. His chest was now against Yixing's back, his arm around his waist, securing him in a hug from behind. He held him there, letting him cry. For some reason it made Yixing feel at home—and that made him feel worse, because they weren’t each other’s home anymore. They weren’t each other's anything. They weren't supposed to be doing this, and yet Yixing didn’t want to push him away.

“I'm so sorry,” Sehun whispered against the back of his head. “I know you won’t believe me, and I don't blame you. I wouldn't, either, if I were you. But you need to know that I'm—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Stop it,” Yixing choked the words out. He cringed when his voice cracked.

“But I need you to hear it.”

_“Why?”_

Sehun didn’t reply right away. The gears in his brain were almost audible. It took him a moment, but eventually, his chest rose along with the deep breath he took.

“Earlier,” he started, “when Jongdae was talking to you on the phone. I heard you giving him instructions. I was almost unconscious, but I still could hear you. You sounded so… scared…”

Yixing frowned. He had thought he had managed to control his nerves.

“Hearing you like that scared me, too,” Sehun said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I had never heard you like that before. And knowing I was the reason why you sounded like that… I know it doesn't change a thing, and it took me a while to get it, but you must know I'm sorry. I promise it'll never happen again.”

Yixing scoffed and cleaned his nose with the back of his hand. “It's not my business if you do it again. I don’t care.”

It was a lie—he _did_ care, but he didn't believe him. He told himself that he wouldn't believe him. Sehun had made that promise several times before, and he hadn't been true to his word, not even once. Nothing would be different this time. He knew better than to believe such a thing.

“I know you don’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m sorry,” Sehun whispered and buried his face in the crook between Yixing’s neck and the pillow.

Yixing squirmed at the contact, but still let him stay there. Sehun’s breath was warm on his skin. It was soothing. Familiar. Reassuring, even. He would never admit how much he had missed that.

A shaky sigh left Sehun’s lips and his voice faltered when he said, “You’ve no idea how much I missed this.”

A cold shiver ran down Yixing’s spine. This was so messed up. This couldn't be happening. He didn’t like where this was going.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” he asked, pushing Sehun’s arm away. He sat up on the mattress, looking down at Sehun’s shocked expression. “Who do you think you are? After everything you did, don't you dare come at me with that bullshit! You've got no right to play with me like that!”

His tears were dripping like water from a faucet. A choking pain settled in his chest, preventing him from breathing. Why was this happening to him now?

“No, wait,” Sehun said. He sat, too, staying as far away as possible so he wouldn’t invade Yixing’s personal space. “I need you to listen to me. After this, if you don't believe me, I promise I won't bother you again.”

Yixing wrapped his arms around himself, hating how short of breath he was. This was the time when having healing power was handy. He would’ve been crying his eyes out, but at least his lungs wouldn’t be struggling to fill with enough oxygen. It was a pity he had depleted tonight. The irony of this was funny.

“Listening to the panic in your voice is one of the worst things I’ve ever heard in my life,” Sehun started, with a slight quiver in each word. “And knowing it was because of me was… It made me realize how much I had fucked it up. With my life. With my power. With you—mostly with you.”

Yixing turned to look at him. He intended to give him his most hateful glare, but his façade dropped when he saw the trace of tears on Sehun’s cheeks. The surprise was so big that he blinked fast, trying to get rid of the blur caused by his own tears.

“I know that you don’t want anything to do with me, but you must know that you’re the best that’s happened to me,” Sehun said. A choke finally made its way out. He tried to control himself taking a few breaths, then continued speaking. “And maybe it’s a lot to ask from me, because I also know that I don’t deserve it, but… If for some reason you… If you still feel the same—“

Then he couldn’t stand it anymore and finally broke down.

He choked again, this time harder. His eyes fell close, his eyebrows furrowed, and his lips trembled. The pain and sadness in his face was almost tangible and Yixing didn’t know what to do. So he sat there, staring at him, dumbfounded at the scene.

He had never seen him like that. They’ve known each other since forever and not even once had he seen Sehun cry like this. Sehun always hid what he felt so he wouldn’t burden those around him. Always cried by himself so he wouldn’t worry anyone who loved him. Yixing was one of the few people Sehun had allowed himself to cry in front of, but those times had been rare and never like this. Never, ever like this.

It was unbearable to witness, but he couldn’t make himself react.

His brain was spiraling out of control.

Was Sehun asking…

This couldn’t be true.

Even if it _were_ true, it wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

Did Sehun think that getting back together was that easy? To walk back into each other's lives as if nothing had happened? As if nothing was broken? As if _they_ weren't broken?

If he thought such a thing, then he was an idiot.

They were bound to hurt themselves. It would happen, whether they liked it or not. It was inevitable. Having the life they got, full of unnatural powers, doomed by a legend more ancient than the world itself. They weren’t normal people. Never had, never would.

He found himself repeating Sehun’s words over and over again in his mind. As he listened to them, it dawned on him that Sehun was letting him choose. He was giving him the choice to accept or to decline. To take him back or to keep him away for good. He had all the power in his hands. And maybe, he thought, he himself was an idiot, as well. Because as much as he hated to admit it, to think about getting Sehun back excited him as much as it scared him.

Could he bear to live like this once again? It wasn’t healthy. It was wrong. But oh, didn't he craved this! He craved for _him._ Yearned, and wished, and hoped he could have him at least one more time. The need was so big, so strong. Probably as much, if not even more, as his need to get a dose of nicotine back when he had quit it all those years ago.

Thinking about this objectively— _if_ this even had an objective side, that is—he realized the outcome would still be the same, no matter what he chose. He had suffered when they were together. He had suffered when they were not. It had hurt, and the never-ending pain became one with him along the way. It was always present and it would most likely never go away. It was a pain that not even his stupid healing power was able to cure.

So he guessed that if this would never change, he might as well jump in and go for what he wanted. Because as twisted as all this was, it was better than nothing—it hurt to have Sehun, but it did more not to have him at all.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Yixing reached out to where Sehun’s hand was. He placed the tips of his fingers over Sehun’s, caressing his warm skin.

The contact made Sehun jump. His sobs hitched at the unexpected touch. He opened his eyes and fixed them where their fingers tentatively found their way to intertwine with each other. He then looked up. His eyes were wide and wary. A lot of emotions crossed through his face and his mind had to be a mess. But when it hit him what was happening, a relieved sigh escaped his lips.

Yixing’s pulse had rocketed to the sky and he was sure Sehun could feel it through their joined fingers. As if on cue, the wind hit the windows from the outside. They were rattling in time with his pulse. It was all Sehun's doing and it was embarrassing, yet Yixing couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Xing, I…” Sehun whispered. His unspoken words lingered in the air around them. Heavy with meaning, and stronger as they had ever been.

“I know,” Yixing said, letting himself smile a little bit for the first time in a while. “Me too.”

Sehun showed the trace of a smile of his own. That was all Yixing needed to assure himself that they would be alright—for now, at least. Believing it would last forever was wishful thinking. Things wouldn’t give a whole 180 degrees turn to the right direction only because they wanted to. It would take time, and effort, and it was probable that they would never be exactly where they wanted to be. How they wanted to be. _But, shit, if they wouldn’t try._

So fuck it.

Fuck it all.

They would be each other’s destruction. This would all end in pain and suffering. But maybe this exact point was where they were supposed to end. Maybe it was _here_ where it would finally stop.

Yixing didn’t know and he didn’t care.

Because the only thing he did know was that if someone was going to end him, that would be Sehun—and he wouldn’t like to have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge fan of MAMA AU fics, and I've always wanted to write something about it, so here's my first contribution to it. :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are highly appreciated. As always, take care of yourselves! Have a wonderful day/night! ♥(:


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